His Saving Grace (Regency Refuge 1) (2 page)
Read His Saving Grace (Regency Refuge 1) Online
Authors: Heather Gray
Tags: #Historical Fiction, #Romance & Love Stories
"Grace was crying. I tried to comfort her. Now I'm to be wed." Thomas's voice shook with anger at the treachery. He clenched and released his fists a half-dozen times before he realized what he was doing and stopped.
"Pardon me, Your Grace?" Rupert's voice was void of emotion, as though they were discussing the weather or a change chef wished to make to the evening menu.
"You heard me. I shall return in three Sundays to get it over with. The banns have to be read first, of course. Presently I am leaving for London to take care of some business. I'm planning to get myself assigned, consigned, or conscripted. Whatever it takes, I'm going to wed that woman, then join Wellington. I assume he's gotten word of Napoleon's escape and is returning from Vienna. As soon as Grace and I are wed, I'm taking her to the estate in Northumberland."
Not one to get easily ruffled, Rupert remained where he stood and asked, "Will I be joining you on the continent, then?" Rupert had served in the British Army. An injury had landed him back in London, where Thomas had come across him. They'd struck up an unorthodox relationship, more friends than lord and servant. In fact, when Rupert's injury had finally healed, he'd chosen to remain in Thomas's employ.
Thomas, now dressed in fresh clothes, sat on the bed and gaped at Rupert, stunned. "I'm to be married."
"So you said," his valet said drily.
"She lied and trapped me. Lady Appleton made a huge scene declaring to everyone within hearing that I'd ruined the chit. Then her father came on the scene and said I'd have to marry her."
"Sounds horrid," Rupert said as he collected the clothing Thomas had thrown about the room.
"I won't have her here at Stafford, you know."
"I'm sure you know what you're doing."
"She would be a poison to this household." Thomas spat the words out.
"We are still talking about Lady Grace, correct?"
Thomas gave his valet an exasperated look as his fingers drummed a steady beat on his thigh and said, "Don't you dare try to defend her. You weren't there."
"I wouldn't dream of it, Your Grace. I was doing nothing more than seeking clarification. You've always spoken so highly of her before now."
"Ship her off to Northumberland, that's what I'm going to do." Thomas's voice sounded tired even to his own ears. The prickling sensation at the base of his neck told him he was missing something important, but his anger overrode his common sense.
"Sending Lady Grace into exile at the far corner of the country for something Lady Appleton did ought to give you enough distance. Why put yourself in harm's way on the continent?"
Thomas's temper flared again, and he jumped up, refusing to acknowledge Rupert's words. "Pack whatever we need. Smythe is readying the wagon. We leave for London within the hour." When Rupert did not immediately take action, Thomas raised an eyebrow and clasped his hands behind his back in a viselike grip of barely restrained irritation.
"Am I to accompany you to the continent, Your Grace?"
Thomas, who fully intended to say yes, was shocked by the words coming from his own mouth. "No. You will stay with Grace. She may be a liar of the worst sort, but if she's my wife I need to keep her safe, and you're the only one I trust to do that while still remaining loyal to me."
His expression giving nothing away, Rupert said, "Of course."
****
The next three weeks went by in a never-ending series of meetings as Thomas tied up the many obligations to which he had committed himself before the disastrous affair at Grace's house. When he inherited his father's title, he'd become the youngest duke active in the House of Lords. His voice and opinions had been much the same as his father's, but his age had garnered him a generous portion of disrespect. The old guard had only recently begun to let him into some of the more serious discussions. They were going to feel he was throwing it back in their faces when he left for an extended term on the continent. He spent many a long meeting trying to convince people he was making a legitimate choice to serve king and country in a different manner.
"Your Grace," Thomas said to Duke Mugsby, an elderly gentleman of small stature, wispy white hair, noxious breath, and, unfortunately, much sway, "I urge you to reconsider your position on the Importation Act."
"You, Stanbury," the old duke said, using Thomas's surname, "are far too young to understand the implications of this Act. Why, you're barely out of the nursery. How could you possibly comprehend what we are trying to do here?"
The two were sitting at White's, a gentleman's club in London, having an unofficial meeting to discuss some political matters. Beyond irritated with Mugsby and his shortsightedness, Thomas wanted to stand to his full height and command the ancient man to listen. Instead, he kept his voice even and said, "If the Act becomes law, the importation of grain into England will cease. We will have no choice but to rely on our own farmers to produce all we need." Mugsby was well past his prime, but he would not relinquish the two-fisted hold he had on power and influence with the other members of the House of Lords.
"That's the point, my boy." Duke Mugsby, voice condescending, said, "The market won't get flooded with cheap imports, and our laborers won't be undercut in pricing." The old duke smirked, his lips thin and pale. Thomas could easily picture the old man using that voice to harangue a servant for putting too much wood in the fireplace or too much pepper in his soup.
"With nothing to help keep prices in check, landowners will be able to charge astronomically high rents, and the farmers will be forced to sell their product for greater profit so they can afford to pay. In turn, the cost of everything is this country will increase. Everyone will be forced to raise their prices to be able to feed their families. Then what happens if there's a famine? What happens if we have a single year without enough rain to produce the crops needed? The price of grain will rise until the ability to purchase it will belong exclusively to the wealthy. Would you see all of England starve over your greed? I believe an import tax is necessary, but the one proposed in this Act is preposterous. No reasonable person could possibly see this as a good move, politically or ethically."
The elder duke stood with the aid of his cane and said, "I will excuse your impertinence this once. Perhaps getting shot at in defense of your country will help turn you from a child into a man. We don't need your new ideas. What we need is for you to back us up in the lawmaking for this great country, to preserve a way of life that has served us well for centuries. If you can't do that, then get out of our way."
Thomas, no longer able to contain his ire, also stood. "You speak rightly. What you are doing will serve you well. Even if it means crushing everybody else under your heels."
Before Duke Mugsby could make the grand exit he was so obviously planning, Thomas spun on his heel and left the club. Too angry to sit in a carriage, he instructed the driver to return without him and began the walk home.
As his long legs and wrath-fueled pace quickly propelled him, Thomas played the scene with Grace over in his head dozens of times, and each time he came back to one simple fact:
Women will do anything to wed a high-ranking member of society, and a duke is almost as high as it gets. Every woman wants to marry a duke. Which one matters not. If a different duke had stumbled upon Grace in the library, she would have done the same thing.
Her father had likely never said any of those terrible things to her. It had all been a ruse to get Thomas to hold her so they could be caught together with her reputation compromised beyond repair.
Thomas was too angry to listen when his conscience nagged at him.
You treated Grace no better than Mugsby behaved toward you.
His fury, in fact, grew with each step he took.
When Thomas arrived at his townhome, he found his valet packing for a trip. "Rupert, what are you doing?" he snapped.
"You're to be wed in three days' time, Your Grace," Rupert answered. "We need to leave today if you have any hope of making it to your wedding."
Stunned, Thomas sat on the edge of his bed. "Has it already been three weeks?"
"You are forgetting it took us three days to get to London from Stafford, and it will take us three days to get back. That left you with two weeks here in London." Rupert's voice gave nothing away, but Thomas saw the barest hint of sympathy in his dark eyes. He had a nagging feeling the sympathy he saw was more for his intended bride than for him.
"I'm to be wed." Dazed, Thomas considered his valet and friend. "I'm not ready to be a husband."
"Which, I believe, is why you are fleeing to the continent and facing possible death at enemy hands, Your Grace." His voice dry, he said, "Because you'd rather that than look your wife in the face on a daily basis."
Thomas's eyes snapped to Rupert's face, but the valet's expression was dispassionate. "You think I'm wrong to leave?"
"I think perhaps you judge Lady Grace too harshly. You have known her for many years, and I don't believe you've ever found her to be deceptive."
"Impulsive, nosy, opinionated, far too educated for a woman…" Then, shaking his head to rid himself of any tender thoughts he might have toward Grace, he said, "You weren't there, Rupert. You didn't see what happened. She trapped me and betrayed me."
Thomas would have never considered her capable of such deceit, and that cut more deeply than all the rest. Perhaps if he'd seen it coming, if he'd suspected her of such duplicitous intentions from the start, he wouldn't feel as if his heart were bleeding.
Grace watched from the window of her bedchamber. Today was her wedding day, and her husband-to-be had yet to arrive. She had been too upset this morning to attend church and had instead remained at home, claiming an ailing stomach. Her parents probably thought it was nerves. True, she was nervous. The maelstrom of emotions swirling in the pit of her stomach, though, could much more accurately be described as dread, fear, and… hope.
At twenty-and-one, she'd known Thomas her entire life. He was five years her senior and had always been such an even-tempered person. Until that fiasco of a house party, he had treated her with kindness and patience her whole life. When other young men might have teased her or treated her like a bother, he had allowed her to tag along when fishing or hunting. While some might have told her to comply with her role as an earl's daughter, he had allowed her to speak her mind and discuss the topics of public policy in which she'd been interested.
She had thought of him as a big brother who understood her. Her own brother was much older and had been away at school most of her childhood, and was now married and raising a family of his own at a different estate. Their relationship was cordial, but distant. Thomas had filled the void loneliness had created in her childhood.
Grace didn't know what to make of the Thomas who had spoken so harshly and stalked out of the house. One thing was for certain. Her Thomas was no longer a childhood friend. He was a man now, and she needed to start thinking of him as one. He was classically aristocratic with his slender build that was a touch taller than the average man.
And so angry. I wonder if he's gotten over that yet?
A tap at the door caught Grace's attention. Her father poked his head around the edge and asked, "May I come in?" Grace, who had not sought him out in the weeks since the debacle, said nothing. "I need to apologize." Grace heard the words, but instead of responding right away, she studied him. He looked better than he had at the house party. He had the same wavy, greying hair and debonair clothes, but his color was better. His eyes, however, were sad.
"For what?" Her father, too, had acted out of character that day. The cruel things he'd said to her had come as such a surprise. Had she been used to such harshness from him, she might not have been moved to tears. She understood that once Lady Appleton had made that scene, there was no way for the situation to be resolved short of a wedding. She found it hard not to blame him, for it was his fault she'd sought tearful solace in the library to begin with.
Father must have a drinking problem I didn't know about. Being in his cups that day is the only way to explain his cutting words.
Grace could find no other reasonable explanation.
"It was hard on all of us when Thomas's father died." Confused by the mention of the late duke, Grace stared. Thomas had been nineteen when his father had died. As the heir, he'd inherited the title and duchy, and all the estates and responsibility that went with it. To make matters worse, Thomas had no brothers or sisters to help him shoulder the burden and grief, and his mother had disappeared into a world of mourning from which she hadn't emerged until at least three years later.
"The duke was my best friend going all the way back to childhood."
Thomas used to be mine. It appears Father and I have something new in common. We've both lost a best friend.
"We spent summers at each other's houses as children. Then, as young men, we attended Eton together. I took it hard when he died."
"I'm sure it was equally hard for Thomas to lose the father he loved so much." Sarcasm danced its way through Grace's words with little effort.
The earl sighed and sat down. "We had always hoped you and Thomas would suit, that you would fall for each other and eventually get married."
What?
"That's why I never let you have a season in London."
What?
"Those terrible things I said to you at the house party — I would understand if you never forgave me. I didn't mean any of that. You are twenty-and-one, and I'd waited too long for Thomas. I was angry at myself and eaten up with guilt."
Me and Thomas? What?
Her father continued, the picture of contrition. "My own selfish plans had doomed my daughter to a life of spinsterhood in the country."
At least he didn't say "courtesan."
"That doesn't excuse what I said, but I want you to understand I was angry with myself and wrongly took it out on you. I failed you in the worst possible way a father can fail his daughter. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."